The rain, unusually heavy for late August, pelted furiously against the window. The Headmaster pressed his forehead against the cool glass, mentally reliving the events of the past few months. Moments, or maybe hours later, a firm knock upon the office door broke his concentration.
“Enter!” he barked sharply, lifting his head from the window. He did not turn, but saw in the reflection that a stern-looking witch had entered the room, and her wand was at the ready.
“I should kill you right now, Severus,” she said quietly.
“No Minerva,” he said wearily, “that is the last thing you should do.” He turned to face her, and as he surveyed her, he noticed her dark eyes were filled with a mixture of fury and grief. He was not surprised by this, as she too had been close to the recently deceased Dumbledore. No, he corrected himself, the recently murdered Albus Dumbledore. You did that.
“Why shouldn’t I?” asked Minerva harshly, though dropping her wand slightly.
“Because if you do, you will never know the truth.” The tone of his voice made him sound easily a hundred years old, though he was not yet forty.
“The truth is quite plain, Severus,” Minerva replied darkly. “Not only has the Order’s leader died, but you killed him. You “ who he trusted! You killed him beneath the sign of the Dark Mark. If that isn’t betrayal, I don’t know what is!” Her voice had been rising steadily throughout her outburst, and was now uncharacteristically shrill. She forced a deep breath and continued, “And furthermore, as Deputy Headmistress, the office in which you now sit should be mine.”
“Why Minerva,” Severus said with the slightest smirk, “I’ve never known you to be either jealous or possessive.”
“Do not mistake my words for things they are not,” she answered with a glare. “My concern is neither for me nor my career, but for the hundreds of students now at the mercy of a cold-blooded traitor.”
“I have always been what I am,” Severus snapped. “My apologies that you chose to see only what you wished to see.”
“I see you quite clearly now.”
“No, you do not.”
“No?” Minerva raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Severus, we have taught at the same school for nearly two decades. I daresay we may even have been more than professional acquaintances. And yet, you stand before me a murderer. A murderer of the only man who believed in you. When no one else did, Severus, Albus did. He alone convinced many of the Order of your loyalty. Merlin, he even testified to the Ministry and kept you out of Azkaban. And this is how you repay him? You stand above the Astronomy Tower, you look him in the eye, and you-“
“Do exactly what I promised him I would do,” Severus finished, his voice not more than a whisper.
“I beg your pardon?” Minerva asked, visibly flustered.
“Yes, Minerva,” Severus said, turning back to the rain-streaked window. “It was all part of his grand plan.” Harshness forced its way into his voice as he continued, “He was dying. The Dark Lord was unknowingly killing him through that cursed ring he insisted on wearing. I have never known him to be such a fool.
“It was just over a year ago that he and I stood in this very office and he asked me to murder him. Murder him! You are correct that he was the only one who ever trusted me; the only one who ever knew why I pledged my loyalty to the Order. And yet, he asked me to spare the soul of Draco Malfoy. Apparently he thought mine had been ripped enough; what would once more be?”
“Severus,” Minerva said, though not entirely unkindly, “what on earth are you talking about? You aren’t speaking sense.”
“I thought I made it quite simple,” he said, turning back to face her with a grimace that was an attempt at a smirk.
“Then you best explain again.”
Severus motioned to the chair in front of his desk and, after she was seated, proceeded to tell her the sordid tale. When he reached the part about Albus Dumbledore looking into his eyes and begging, not for mercy, but for death, the tears that had been welling in Minerva’s eyes fell unashamedly down her face.
“But Severus,” she whispered, “what of this?” She waved her hand about the Headmaster’s office.
“Isn’t it a lovely reward?” Severus spat bitterly. “With the Ministry nearly under the Dark Lord’s control, it was easy for him to have you removed from your post and see to it that I inherit it from you.”
“And of the Carrows?”
“Certainly not my choice for professors. But to deny them positions would be an insult to the Dark Lord. It would have spoken volumes about my allegiance. An allegiance which I am not yet prepared to make known to him.”
“You are a coward, Severus.”
“A coward? Minerva, do you not see? As Headmaster, I can protect the students. The Dark Lord will not dare interfere at Hogwarts so long as he thinks I am torturing Muggle-born students appropriately. If you remained as Headmistress, he would try to infiltrate the school every chance he could.”
“No, Severus, I do not see. I do not see how you expect me to support this venture. How I am to stand idly by while my students suffer.”
“I’m afraid that is your burden to bear, Professor. I assure you that I will do what I can to protect those who are in need of it, but this is what must be done.”
“And when precisely do you intend to make your allegiance known?”
“Minerva, surely you must know that before his death, Albus set some sort of important task to Harry Potter.”
She nodded, but said, “I know nothing of the details.”
“Nor do I,” Severus said darkly, “but I do know this. At some point in time, and hopefully rather soon, Potter will complete said task, and an all-out war will ensue. I intend to die with the Dark Lord knowing that his most faithful servant has betrayed him.”
“Die?” Minerva asked, horrified.
“Yes, my dear Minerva,” he answered with a dark laugh. “You cannot possibly expect the Dark Lord to let me live when he finds out I have been true to the Order of the Phoenix for the past eighteen years!”
Minerva shook her head sadly. “I suppose not,” she concurred reluctantly.
“In that time, Minerva, we must ready the students to fight. It is their future that is at stake. I shall turn a blind eye, in a manner of speaking, if you somehow teach them how to survive.”
“Of course,” she said resolutely. She rose from her chair. “I am sorry for the plight you have endured.”
He nodded grimly. “As am I. And Minerva, you won’t speak of this to anyone, of course.”
“Of course,” she whispered. With one final glance at him, she exited the office, leaving him alone to calculate the next subtle moves. He would either save the students of Hogwarts, or he would die trying.